If We Were a Movie
by Instead of Reality
Summary: Pre-Breaking Dawn. Jake doesn't know how Quil can stand playing tea parties and dress-up and listening to little-girl music, like Hannah Montana.


**If We Were a Movie**

**A Twilight Saga Fan-Fiction**

**Song: **"If We Were A Movie" by Hannah Montana

**Author's Note: **I do not own the characters, they belong to Stephenie Meyer. And the lyrics belong to Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus. And I know Claire may not be this old when Quil imprints or before Jake imprints on Nessie, but hey, it's my imagination :)

**Summary: **Pre-Breaking Dawn. Jake doesn't know how Quil can stand playing tea parties and dress-up and listening to little-girly-music, like Hannah Montana. One-shot Song-fic

**Dedication: **I dedicate this one to my cousin Olivia who I based my character of Claire on. Yes, Olivia gives impromptu Hannah Montana concerts.

* * *

"Hi, Jakey!" squeals Claire as I walk into the play room.

"Hey there, Claire," I say, grinning at Quil. He is crammed into a tiny pink chair, holding a tiny plastic Disney princess tea cup, wearing a purple feathery boa and tiny white-yellow Easter hat.

Claire runs over to me for a hug, grabbing my hand and ushering me towards her table, anxious to be back to serving tea, and excited at another potential guest.

"You sit there," points Claire imperiously at a neon green plastic chair.

I shake my head. There's no way in hell I'm gonna fit my ass into that contraption.

"Sorry, Claire honey, but I'm not gonna fit. I'll just sit on the floor next to Quil, okay?"

Claire rolls her eyes dramatically. "Boys," she sighs, sounding much older than her four years. She leaves the room.

"Claire-bear, where are you going?" Quil calls, a little anxious. He starts to get up to follow her.

"I'll be right back! Stay there!"

"Okay. Be careful!" Quil sits back down. He smiles at me, looking happy as a clam. "'Sup?" he asks.

"Not much. Just got off patrol. You?"

"Tea party," grins Quil.

"And…you're happy about it?" I ask incredulously, knowing well what Quil will say. What Quil always says.

"Yep. As long as she's serving, I'll sit here for hours."

"But you're paid for babysitting, right?"

"Nah. I told Claire's mom that she didn't need to pay me to hang out with her."

I stare at him. God, imprinting was bad. It's ridiculous to see Quil this wrapped up in any girl's life. And yet, as my head so kindly reminds me, I, Jacob Black, am too. Wrapped up in a girl that I can't get out of my mind or my life, but seems determined to avoid the happy-ever-after I want so badly. Shaking away my heartbreak, I distract myself by teasing Quil instead.

"Ya know, purple and pink are really your colors, man. You should wear them more often."

Quil grins and bats his eyes at me. "You really think so?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, dress in drag. Totally would bring all the girls runnin'."

Claire returns to the room, carrying a pile of brightly colored costumes. She hands a big floppy pink hat and a red sequin-y scarf to me.

Uh-oh.

Quil grins smugly, the little bastard. "Guess red and pink are your colors, Jake."

"Aww, really, Claire?" I ask.

"You won't fit in any of my dresses," she declares, "So you wear these."

"Aw, Claire. I don't wanna—" I start to whine, but am stopped by the look on her face.

"You better do what the girl wants," Quil winks at me. He's become such a girl.

I glare at him. Traitor. Bros before hos, I thought.

"Jaaaaaaaaaake. _Pwease_," whines Claire. God, she's reverting to baby-voice....and pouting. And the puppy-dog face.

I hate the puppy-dog face.

I see the puppy-dog face every day with the pack and yet I continue to give in to it.

I sigh and throw the scarf around my neck. It itches. Claire continues to watch, waiting for me to put the hat on.

"Claire, boys can't wear hats in the house. It's not allowed," I tell her.

Claire crosses her arms, and taps her foot. I can't help but smile at the cute kid. She's acting like I'm a little dog that's pooped in the living room and is hiding from his owner. Or that dog whose owner makes him wear a tacky Halloween costume and the dog, in an effort to rid himself of torture, rips it and now has to face the wrath of the owner who thought Fido looked adorable.

Yeah, that's me.

She narrows her eyes at me, so I narrow mine right back. Oh, it's on, little girl.

"It's alright, Claire-bear. We can do karaoke now," suggests Quil. "You can dress up as a rock star!"

Claire brightens at the idea. "You clean up!" she cries as she runs out of the room again.

Well, that was close. And Quil's dignity loss is still much greater than mine.

However, he seems to enjoy it.

Quil stands up and begins to clear the table, putting all the different plastic utensils in the bin. He scoops up the tea pot and all the cups and leaves the room to dump the water in the sink.

I lean back against the wall tiredly. It's tough to be around Quil and Claire, but I had come here because I can't go back to Sam and Emily's—there was just too much love and happiness in that house for me to digest, even if Emily's the best cook. And at home, Dad just watches me…and Paul's usually there, sitting on my couch and eating my Doritos. There are only so many fights I could pick with my sister's fiancé. And I can't go to Bella's house because that would be stupid.

At least, Quil and Claire aren't romantic, I think. But there still is love here. Love that is evident in every word Quil speaks of or to Claire. It's …cloying. I smile: 'cloying' is one of those fancy vocabulary words I picked up from Bella when she was trying to get me to do more schoolwork.

The thought of Bella makes me go tense again.

Quil, unaware, comes back in the room and puts away the rest of the tea party. He goes over to the CD player and turns it on.

Immediately, a voice floats out of the speakers. An nasal, pre-teen voice that takes me by surprise and manages to divert my attention.

"_You get the best of both worlds,  
Chill it out, take it slow,  
Then you rock out the show!  
You get the best of both worlds!  
Mix it all together and you know that it's the best of both worlds!" _

"No, no, no, no," I groan. "Not Hannah Montana."

"Yes, Hannah Montana," Quil grins as he plops on the floor next to me. "It's Claire's favorite. You're gonna love it."

"Oh, no. I draw the line. You, man, are crazy to listen to this pop crap for so long. I'm gonna take a nap."

"C'mon, Jake. Just stay for the concert. She's hysterical."

"Dude, only if you take off the hat and scarf."

Quil smiles. "When she tells me to."

"You are going to have really kinky role-play when you get older," I tease, wiggling my eyebrows.

Quil frowns. "Ew, Jake. Don't think like that! She's _four_!"

"…And twenty days, fourteen hours, thirty-five minutes, fifty sec—"

"Ha-ha. Funny, Jake."

I grin, showing all my teeth. As an after-thought he adds, "And actually it's fifty-three days, sixteen hours, twenty minutes…and I don't know how many seconds."

I roll my eyes. Of course Quil has the correct minutes since Claire's birthday.

I never want to imprint. Hell, my love-life is screwed up enough.

"Jake, you act like I'm suffering. I'm really not. It's the best thing that ever happened to me."

And here comes Dr. Quil. Ready to tell me just how friggin' spectacular it is that he's found the love of his life and she's four years old and he gets to watch her grow up and know her better than any other person on the planet and blah blah blah.

Kill me now.

"Okay. Alright. I know. Stop," I snap. I do _not_ want another lecture on how awesome imprinting is.

Thank God, I am saved from the rest of the speech by Claire's appearance in the doorway. And I have to laugh at her outfit.

She's got a long, blonde wig that's fallling in her eyes, a blue ballet tutu, a black sequined jacket, mismatching plastic heels, and _Pretty Pretty Princess_ jewelry. All of which are over top the yellow sun-flowery sundress she was already wearing.

"OH MY GOSH!" screams Quil. "It's Hannah Montana!!" He crawls towards her, like one of those crazy tweenage girls. "Are you really Hannah Montana? The real live Hannah Montana?"

"_I'm _Hannah Montana," I throw in.

The glare I get from Claire is life-threatening. "No, _I _am Hannah Montana!!!" She stomps her foot.

"Okay, okay," I say. "You're Hannah Montana."

She smiles at me rather triumphantly and turns back to Quil, who continues his paparazzi-tween girl impression. He tries to grab her and gets a corner of the tutu. "I touched her dress! OH MY GOSH, I touched Hannah Montana's dress! I touched Hannah Montana's dress!"

"Hey! Stop that! That's my dress!" shrieks Claire.

"Sorry, Hannah Montana." Quil's face is immediately remorseful. He has done something wrong in the eyes of his goddess.

"It's okay. I forgive you." Claire leans in and brushes her nose against his. "You can be my boyfriend."

Quil shouts excitedly.

"_Buuuuuuuuut…_ you _have_ to sit there for the show, because no boys are allowed backstage. That means _you_!"

She points at me and Quil, before turning on her heels.

It is _almost_ quite dramatic...except that four-year-olds should not wear heels. She wobbles and she comes real close to falling. Except that Quil catches her. Helping her steady herself, he straightens her costume and sends her on her way. Before she leaves the room, she reaches up and touches his cheek.

I can't look at them. It's too personal. In some way, she _knows_ in her heart that they will be forever together.

And I don't get one of them. You know, those forever-together things. Mine's chosen something cold, dead, and sparkly.

"Man, I hate it when she wears those things. She's gonna fall over. Girls shouldn't wear them. I'm gonna try and make sure she doesn't wear them 'till she's much older," Quil complains worriedly.

I nod. An image of clumsy Bella appears in my head, wearing outrageous red heels. She smiles and starts to walk towards me, but trips and stumbles, catching herself before she falls. Then my traitor conjures up a picture of a pale hand grabbing her and helping her right herself and holding her up, before locking on to her possessively.

Damn leech needs to stay out of my head.

If she were mine, I snap to the vampire in my head, I'd be there to catch her whenever she fell, but I wouldn't do everything for her. She still needs the freedom to walk and to live! And I'd give her that!

"Dude," Quil says. "You alright? You're all tensed up. You're thinking about her, aren't you? Calm down. Please don't morph here. Please. For Claire."

Underneath Quil's friendly and concerned tone, there's something else. I hear it—if I change while Claire's here, she could get hurt. And Quil's not gonna take that chance. Pack may be brothers, but objects of imprintment, they're priority. If something in the least threatens Claire, Quil will be on the warpath. I don't want to get in the way of that.

And my posing a threat is causing Quil to pose a threat.

"Quil!" we hear from the hallway. "Movie!"

"I'm alright. Sorry. I'm fine." I shake it off. I will be fine.

Breathe, Jacob Black, breathe.

Quil's still looking at me. He's watching to make sure I don't start sprouting fangs and fur. But I'm good. The thought of Claire sobers me up.

"I'm okay, Quil. Don't worry." The fire, the power that rips through me when I transform is gone.

"MOVIE!!" demands Claire, unaware of the danger that just passed.

I look questioningly at Quil, who seems to know what to do. He presses a button on the CD player and another Hannah Montana song comes on.

I slump back against the wall, wishing I didn't have to listen to that stupid little wanna-be rock-star pop-princess sing stupid little songs about her stupid little problems that have nothing to do with my stupid, messed-up, little life.

Claire enters the room again with a plastic microphone and begins to sing along, often mispronouncing the words and warbling when she doesn't remember. Quil doesn't look like he cares or notices as he watches, entranced.

_Uh oh, there you go again talking cinematic  
Yeah you! You're charming, got everybody star struck  
_

What the hell? I think. This chick seriously needs new song writers.

_I know how you always seem to go  
For the obvious instead of me_

Seriously. Girls always go for the obvious. Stupid vampire. Big deal what he looks like.

_But get a ticket and you'll see._

Oh good. More stupid lyrics.

_If we were a movie, you'd be the right guy  
And I'd be the best friend that you fall in love with_

Whoa.

_In the end we'd be laughing, watching the sunset  
Fade to black, show the names, play the happy song, yeah_

I wish.

_Yeah, yeah when you call me I can hear it in your voice__  
__Oh sure! Wanna see me and tell me all about her_

Well, she didn't want to talk about him back when he was gone. But _now_—everything's Edward this, Edward that.

_La la, I'll be acting through my tears  
Guess you'll never know that I should win an Oscar for the scene I'm in_

Whatever. Just a dumb song. Just like dumb Hannah Montana. And that dumb new vampire movie coming out. Stupid Rob Pattinson. I mean, he's so weird-looking. And stupid Taylor whatever his name is. I mean, just cause he plays a hot werewolf in a dumb chick flick. He doesn't even act like a werewolf. That writer's crazy. And those abs are totally fake. I've got more impressive abs than that.

_If we were a movie you'd be the right guy  
And I'd be the best friend that you fall in love with  
In the end we'd be laughing, watching the sunset  
Fade to black, show the names, play the happy song_

If this were a movie, I'd be the right guy. I'd be the best friend that she'd fall in love with.

_Wish I could tell you there's a twist, __  
__Some kind of hero in disguise.  
And we're together; it's for real, now playing  
__  
_She may think he's the hero. But where would she be without me?

_Wish I could tell you there's a kiss like something more than in my mind  
I see it could be amazing_

That kiss _was _amazing. Just not good enough, I guess. _  
_  
_If we were a movie, you'd be the right guy  
And I'd be the best friend that you fall in love with_

_I _am the best friend. _I_ am the right guy.

_In the end we'd be laughing, watching the sunset  
Fade to black, show the names, play the happy song  
_

I want my happy song, dammit.

_If we were a movie, you'd be the right guy  
And I'd be the best friend that you fall in love with  
In the end we'd be laughing, watching the sunset  
Fade to black, show the names, play the happy song  
_

Did I really just compare this song to _my_ life? Am I really making Hannah Montana fit _my life_?

_If we were a movie, you'd be the right guy  
And I'd be the best friend that you fall in love with_

I can't take this anymore.

_In the end we'd be laughing, watching the sunset  
Fade to black, show the names, play the happy song_

"Quil, I gotta go." I stand up, anger coursing through my veins. "Claire, that was wonderful, but I gotta go. Bye!"

I run out of that house as I feel my muscles start rippling and the hair and the fangs growing. Within seconds I am in wolf form, running for all I've got.

But the song is still there.

_If we were a movie…_I'd _be the right guy and _I'd_ be the best friend you'd fall in love with in the end._

If life were like a movie, I'd have Bella. Edward would be…gone.

But life isn't a goddamn movie. It sucks.

_Jacob, what's wrong? _asks Sam.

Crap, I was hoping to be the only one changed.

_Nothing, _I try to say, knowing he'll hear it anyway. _I'm never listening to Hannah Montana again. _

* * *

**I will love you forever if you review :D **

**And yes, I really did just use a Hannah Montana song in a Twilight song-fic. I'm bored :P**


End file.
